


Inhuman

by compos_dementis



Category: Trinity Blood
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-23
Updated: 2012-06-23
Packaged: 2017-11-08 09:22:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/441667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/compos_dementis/pseuds/compos_dementis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tres does not understand human emotion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inhuman

"Tres."

Father Nightroad's voice is quieter than usual. Scanning for signs of vocal damage proves to find nothing. Signals of physical deterioration jump out at him as he scans for further damage elsewhere: reddened, over moistened eyes, pale skin that darkens like bruising around the eyes. Sleep deprivation.

Humans require sleep to survive. If Abel Nightroad does not sleep, he will break.

Not "break". Die.

Abel Nightroad will die.

"Damage report, Father Nightroad?" His own voice is its usual monotone softness. No requirement to raise volume in this kind of atmosphere.

Father Nightroad blinks at him for a moment, brow furrowed. "I'm fine," he says. "Why did you bring it up? I was the one talking."

"You appear to show signs of physical exhaustion, Father. Perhaps the Father would do well with rest."

Such a stupid thing to say, really, but his emotionless design – his perfected design – prevents him from feeling shame. Instead he watches as Father Nightroad's head tilts a few degrees (he can count the exact number of degrees but refrains from voicing it – unnecessary, unnecessary) and that brow relax.

"I'm just… tired, that's all," Father Nightroad says louder now. "But there was something I wanted to talk to you about."

Tres turns to him fully. Humans like when he looks at them directly. Or, once they discover that he is not a human, they despise it and they look away. He does not understand them. He simply tries his best to fulfill their comfort. "You have my complete and undivided attention, Father Nightroad."

Father Nightroad looks away from him for exactly three point four seconds, then looks back up at him. "Can't you call me Abel, Tres? We've known one another for a long time. I mean… we're friends, you don't have to be so formal."

"Fath—Abel. You are avoiding the subject. Requesting you carry on with the desired conversation." He knows, judging from the look on Father N—On Abel's face, that he has affected emotion. He is unsure as to which one.

"Y-Yes," Abel says, just as softly. "Um… it's about Esther."

"Sister Esther Blanchett is still sleeping in her quarters," Tres responds. "You know this much, Father Abel. She requires lots of sleep to recover from her trauma."

Abel's brow furrows again. Eyes moisten by three percent above normal moisturization. Tres scans once more for signs of damage but finds nothing.

"She…" Abel's voice cuts off suddenly and he takes a deep breath. (Tres doesn't breathe, himself – it always captures his attention to watch others.) "I'm… I'm scared, for her."

"Sister Esther Blanchett is in acceptable and functional physical condition, my lord. It is simply a matter of emotional damage. She will prove to be fully functional once she recovers from—"

"That's what I mean. Tres… she… She saw." Abel is trembling now. He holds up his hands to remove his glasses, then presses his hands to his eyes. "And the weird part is, you're the only person I can talk to about it. Esther saw, she saw what I'd never wanted her to have to see. She shouldn't have to see that."

Tres does not understand this emotion. He recognizes that Abel had been in a state of life-or-death before, though he was not present at the time. He also realizes that the Crusnik is a weapon only to be used as a last resort and that it had indeed been a 'last resort' moment. He does not, however, recognize the reasons for Abel's distress. It was simply something that had to be done.

"I do not comprehend your meaning," he admits flatly. "Sister Esther Blanchett would have seen the Crusnik regardless of the situation. Father Abel Nightroad was experiencing a near-death experience, as much as I have been updated, and it had to be done in order for your survival. Your distress—"

"No, no," Abel whispers, interrupting him. He sits up straight again, but makes no move to return his glasses to their position. Looks at Tres once more. "I frightened her. Do you understand that? I… she called me…"

The silence following lasts eleven point two seconds before Abel takes another deep breath. Seven percent deeper than his usual breathing regulation. "I can't have her seeing me in that kind of light. I scared her. She… Tres, she called me a—She called me a monster."

Monster. Tres searches for a reason for this kind of distress. He does not understand human emotion, does not comprehend the cause for this feeling Abel gives off.

"I'm a monster, Tres," Abel whispers softly. His voice cracks unevenly. "I'm… the Vatican's monster… aren't I?"

Tres blinks to bring moisture to his eyes. Then he leans forward to get a closer view. "Negative."

Abel looks at him and his eyes shine with wetness. Crying. That is recognizable now, from this close distance. Abel is crying, and that is an action related to sadness. Sadness being the frequent result of emotional trauma. Tres realizes this now. Emotions are something he will possibly never understand, but actions are something entirely of themselves. And Abel, he knows, is very much a man of action.

"Tres…"

"I responded negative, Father Abel Nightroad," Tres repeats. "'Monster.' Fairy tale creatures frequent in children's stories. Characters of fiction in lack of reason or remorse." Remorse. Emotions. "Lacking emotion."

Abel is still trembling. In a moment of decision, Tres leans forward and takes Abel's hands in his own. Humans find comfort in physical contact. He does not quite perceive the reason, but he will do all he can to allow Abel comfort.

"Father Nightroad is not a monster. You are human just as Sister Esther Blanchett is human. Requesting a halt to your crying."

The silence lasts seven seconds now. Then longer. Twelve seconds… twenty-one seconds…

"Tres," Abel whispers. "Why are you being kind to me?"

Kindness. Another emotion. He is not.

"Negative. I am not human. I am incapable of emotion."

There is a sense of something now as Abel's mouth quirks. A smile.

"I think you're a little more human than you'd like to admit."

The moisture in Abel's eyes returns to regular percentage. The trembling ceases and his pale complexion receives blood. Tres releases Father Nightroad's hands, but Abel holds onto his own in return, preventing him from pulling away.

"Father Nightroad. Requesting response. Why are you holding me?"

Abel looks up at him, down to their hands, up at him again. The action takes five point two seconds to complete itself before their eyes are locked. His own eyes are still damaged slightly, but his visuals are close to full repair. He can see color and the form of Abel's face when he leans in.

Does not move when Abel takes his face between his hands. "Father Tres…"

"Positive."

Another silence, and then Abel pulls away from him. "I should check on Esther. Lord help her, but I think I might have unnerved her a bit more than I thought."

"Acknowledged. I shall attend Sister Kate in operation of the ship." He stands and begins walking away. He can hear the sound of steady breathing behind him.

"Oh, and Father Tres…"

Turns back around and looks to the form he knows is Abel Nightroad, a combined blur of silver and black. "Positive."

Abel's smile is visible even through the blur. "Thank you. For being kind to me."

Tres blinks again. Nearly feels something deep in his chest – he shall get it looked at in the near future. It is not troubling so much curious.

"Negative, Father Nightroad. I am simply doing my duty. Your safety and comfort is my first objective."

With that, he turns and makes his way down the corridor and into the control room. The conversation with Father Abel Nightroad has already halfway been momentarily forgotten, though it is imbedded into his memory circuits just as everything else is.

Kindness. 'Thank you for being kind to me.'

_Negative. I am incapable of emotion. After all, I am not Father Nightroad. I am not human._

_I am merely machine._

**Author's Note:**

> Includes a lovely translation into Russian. Thank you so much for this!
> 
> http://answeraquestion.diary.ru/p177917815.htm?oam#more2


End file.
